Grief is a funny thing. So different depending on the loss or the death.
I grieve with my children in different ways, depending on how they grieve.
Death is ... well... so final. Especially to a child. I learned this very hard lesson when I was about 12.... my favorite closest aunt died... no, she
committed suicide. There... I said it! It was (still is) hard to talk about Suicide. A shameful,
embarrassing way to have a love one die. I learned this along with the grief, the actual loss, of losing my aunt in this horrible way.
For those of you new to my blog, we recently lost my cousin Michelle and her husband Todd last Mother's Day in a tragic car accident that not only took both of their lives but left behind not only those of us who grieve but three amazing little children. Please go
here if you'd like to hear that story.
I am blessed ... well... some might seem it a blessing, that my middle daughter Jojo has
ADHD and because of that or for some other strange twist of fate, she seems so far, immune to the grieving process. She is only 9 after all, but even when my beloved grandfather passed a few years ago, in the normal circle of life and death, Jojo was sad, yes. But she
didn't fully grieve and
hasn't fully understood that which is the process in itself.
When Michelle and Todd died, she of course was sad. She,of course, shed tears. But I think it was because.. well... mostly because her family around her was sad and she felt that was the appropriate way to handle it.
My son... my brave and strong football and baseball player... my ever boyish son, with his strong and stone like demeanor, his rough and tumble ways.... was just mush.
We planned to send Jojo and Trev to school and then a friends on the day of the funeral. Both kids understood that it was not something either of them needed to be present for and actually, Jojo in her lovable but strange Jojo ways.. was more than thrilled to get a half day at school and a play date with her friends. Trev was sad he
couldn't go but understood, as much as a little boy can, and so the morning of the funeral came. The phone rang early that morning and there was a strange but interesting request. My cousins son, close to my sons age, was requesting Trevor be at the funeral. A short discussion with my husband ensued and we decided to allow Trev to make up his own mind. My son was truly more mature than I can imagine he could be, at this age. He slowly pulled open his drawers, while I gave him some time to think about this... and emerged from his bedroom with his dress suit and tie on, dress shoes at the ready, and announced to us " mommy and daddy... I am a little scared but I need to go for my cousins. They need me to be with them and hold their hands and I have to go to support ( or some mispronounced variation of this word) my cousins because they are gonna be so sad today."
My heart melted.
How on earth had I managed to raise such an amazing little boy? How could he know what he was about to witness... how could he be so sad yet strong at the same time?
We entered the church and amid tears all around, sat ( he on my lap) though the laughs and the sad stories, the beautiful music provided by my sister Dayna and a recording of Michelle and Todd's wedding song
True Companion by Marc Cohen( which years before Dayna and I had been honored to sing at their wedding.) At some point during the ceremony, I
don't really remember when... Trev was motioned over to sit in the front pew of the church, filled only with Michelle and Todd's children, parents and my teenage daughter Kylie, who, for lack of better words, was like another child to Michelle and Todd. There I sat, looking through my tears at my beautiful children, both sobbing as they looked up at Michelle and Todd's smiling faces peering from pictures resting on both caskets. Then my son went one step further and leaned toward his cousin Liam... now sobbing during the eulogy and reached up and wiped the tears from his cousins eyes. They clung their hands to each others throughout the rest of the service and then proceeded to cling to each other as we made our way out of the church.
Even to this day... not quite a year later.... my son grieves much differently than I thought a 7 yr old boy would. We will be driving in the car, hear a song, and he will ask me to turn it off as it reminds him of them. He will start to get quiet and cry when he remembers that day and the last horse ride that his 'auntie' Michelle gave him.
So today I wonder how we will get through this years Mother's Day. I know the pain and the suffering is still present in all of us, just like it happened a day ago. I
don't feel as though I have done a disservice to my son by allowing him to be there that day but I still feel like part of me allowed
Trevors 7 yr old innocence to be changed.
I know I will never be the same after grieving for my aunt when she died when I was so young. I know that in the natural progression on time, people die. But an untimely, tragic death? How does one explain all that comes with that to young children. I hope that as more people in our family pass on and return to God in the 'normal way'... if there is such a thing... that my children will continue to learn how to grieve and to understand that it is,
unfortunately a part of life.
But for now, I am blessed and proud of the way my children handled two very difficult deaths.
And I do wonder.... as I feel that my early experience with my Aunt Linda's death has made me part of who I am today.... I wonder if my Jojo will ever be able to truly grieve for someone and feel the sorrow and healing that this process can bring?
